Travelers fill up on French food during rainy barge trip
By Mary Ann Cook
I took a barge trip through France this year and, as a public service, thought I should share some of the magnificence of the experience, as well as any pitfalls, perceived or otherwise.
The barge traveled the Seine, just outside Paris. There was an open bar on board. Now, as well as eating as richly as human beings have any right to eat (better say "dine" in this context) we were forced to drink whatever we felt like drinking.
Actually, the open bar didn't play as much a part in the festivities as you might think. After being plied with two different wines throughout the four-course meals, nearly everyone else headed off straight to the land of Nod.
My confrere and I managed to keep the Irish-born bartender company nightly, however, along with a few other valiant souls willing to stay up past 10 p.m. Little knowing his origins, we spent the first evening complimenting him profusely on his English.
This was a fam trip (short for familiarity), which meant most of the 40 people onboard were travel agents, plus spouses or friends. Fam trips are taken at off times, when the weather isn't at peak level. But those aboard were the people who sell the trip to others, so we were treated at peak level.
Because the trip had been forced north so many times, faced with flooding and mechanical troubles; because it rained every day, forcing itinerary changes; and because foot and mouth disease was rampant right across the channel, forcing menu changes and disclaimers; the crew was hell bent on making sure we had a good time.
Every request, no matter how minor, was answered, or at least addressed.
In short, we were living in the lap of luxury with a rolling panorama of the scenery along the Seine floating by--at least for the few times the boat actually moved. We were treated to a continually changing tableau, from Vernon, home of Monet's Giverney, to Bougival.
Now Bougival looks like a perfectly fine, picturesque French riverside town to me, but when our French friend heard where we had ended up, she laughed until she could hardly be contained. And she's not given to fits of unbridled mirth. Must be like someone here saying you docked at Alviso.
Or maybe she was laughing at the minuscule area we had covered. Fifteen miles? In five days? Well, it had flooded. Boats couldn't get under some bridges because of the height of the Seine, so again the watery itinerary had to be abridged, and the Anacoluthe didn't go as far as it had expected to.
The slow pace is one of the charms of barge travel, of course. Joggers on land could keep up with our progress for miles. If you were riding the stationery bike aboard the Anacoluthe it felt as though it was your energy propelling the boat--a heady feeling of power indeed.
About that name: Anacoluthe. As near as we could make out, the English translation is "oxymoron." Being a wordsmith, that choice of nomenclature really appealed to me.
Originally an honest utilitarian barge carrying humble supplies such as oil and building materials, the boat had been converted into a luxury vessel, carrying such oils as truffle and almond and such building materials as the 14 food groups the French insist on.
While butter, whipping cream and pastry-bedecked meats are considered dirty words on this side of the sea because of the cholesterol patrol, the French, at least on luxury barges, consider those three ingredients a staple of every meal--and in generous measure.
My only worry the whole week was whether the boat could sustain the added weight the passengers must be putting on eating three meals a day of such richness, quality and quantity. I, of course, maintained my usual fitness regime since I weighed in neither coming or returning.
The manufacturers of Velcro and elastic have to make a living too, after all, and I am patriotic enough to lend my firm support to their products. If it sounds like the emphasis was on food on this trip, you've read it right. The pitfalls could all be laid at the door of Mother Nature, aside from the many new candidates for Weight Watchers.
MaryAnn Cook is a regular columnist for the Los Gatos Weekly- Times.
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Los Gatos, California Since 1881
